Take The Hinges Off The Door
by illuminateus
Summary: Tegan/Sara. What starts with a drunken New Year's kiss evolves into crippling heartache, pushed boundaries, and hypocrisy. Quincest, don't read if you dont like it!
1. Your Heart Is An Empty Room

**I figured that there's not NEARLY enough of this pairing as there should be... Im just a fan and this is not at all true. This is my first quincest and the first story i've posted in a LONG time, so needless to say I'm super nervous about it. I hope you all enjoy it! Reviews and criticism are welcomed! :)**

* * *

I always hated New Year's Eve.

But this year, I told myself I would enjoy myself, I told myself that I would join the congregation of blissfully stumbling drunks and young lovers and paint a convincing smile on my face. I told myself that, no matter what, I would convince everyone that I was happy. I would convince _myself_ that I was happy.

Tegan had arrived at my house at 8 that night, rapping on the door with far too much energy for someone who had probably only gotten 3 hours of sleep. I had been in bed all day, feeling nauseous and dizzy from the fact that I hadn't slept in three days straight. I stumbled to the door, tripping over my pajamas that were still twisted angrily around my hips, my sleep-drunk fingers pawing at the doorknob before I mustered enough energy to wretch it open.

"Tegan…. You're early." I groaned, but she pushed past me and my mumbled protests and headed for the fridge. I leaned against the wall and watched her fish through my nearly empty refrigerator. Her eyes narrowed and she bit her lip, running her hair through her hair before pulling out a half empty water bottle.

I said it was half empty, she would have said it was half full.

She swigged it quickly before grabbing my wrist and gently pulling me to my room; I was far too tired to tell her to get the fuck off, so I lazily obliged.

"It's never too early for New Year's, Sara. I'm gonna fix up you today so you'll look smoking hot tonight. And then you can hook up with some hot drunk chick." She winked at me and I laughed half-heartedly. Her smile started to falter as she turned to the closet and looked through my clothes.

She knew I wouldn't be looking at anyone tonight. She knew this two months ago, when I stumbled into her apartment at four in the morning, eyes red-rimmed and puffy, breath reeking of stale beer. I was never one to lose my mind over a girl, but Emy was different.

Emy was everything to me.

And it was pathetic that I couldn't get over her, it was pathetic that I got so fucking attached. It was pathetic that I wasted 5 years on a girl that cheated on me for half a year without a backward glance. The wound that sat so prominent in my heart wiggled and twisted when I thought about Emy, her perfect smile, her sense of humor, her eyes.

_Stop it, Sara. Shut the fuck up_. _She's gone, she left you._

Luckily, Tegan noticed my change in mood and jumped in immediately. "Here," She threw a black and white striped shirt at my face, and I caught it quickly. "Try this one. I always liked it on you."

She offered her hand and I took it, pulling myself up from my bed and towards the bathroom. She threw a pair of skinny jeans in after me and I changed slowly, methodically. I glanced at myself in the mirror, taking in my messy hair that I was too tired to fix and the bags under my eyes that I could never get rid of.

I was always so fucking tired.

I ran a hand through my hair lazily, and adjusted my jeans over my hips. Tegan knocked twice and came in before I had a chance to look up, let alone respond.

"God, Sara." Her voice soundly oddly hoarse and I raised a brow. "You look hot."

I rolled my eyes and turned back to mirror. I looked far from hot. I looked like a fucking hung over zombie.

"Shut up Tegan. I know you're trying to be nice, but you don't have to lie to me."

"Im not lying!" She insisted and came up behind me. "You just gotta pull down your shirt a little."

Her lips were close to my ear and I tried not to notice. Her fingers twisted up around the hem of my shirt; I had lazily left it hitched around my bellybutton, and she pulled it down to my waist. Her fingers brushed over the small of my back and I shivered.

My mind wandered wantonly, and I thought about Tegan in ways that I shouldn't. I was just so tired. That was it, I was exhausted and my mind was playing tricks on me.

An awkward silence crept in slowly, and it swirled stagnantly around the room. I coughed, and twisted around to face Tegan. "So, what time is the party?" I asked and my voice broke loudly when my lips curled around the word _party_. Tegan pursed her lips, and I could tell she was holding back laughter. I glared at her, just daring her to, and that seemed to spur her on until she was bending down, shaking with laughter.

I bit my lip in attempt not to smile.

"Oh, shut the fuck up." I grumbled, and pushed past her into my room.

"Sorry, sorry!'' She choked between guffaws, and I ignored her and did my best to look angry. She wrapped her arms around my waist and I tried to shrug her off. But she was insistent, and we swayed in an awkward dance until I gave in and let her squeeze my back to her chest. "Sorry." She mumbled into my neck, and the feeling of her lips so close to my neck made me break out in goosebumps. "It's fine." I shrugged out of her grip before she could notice the blush on my cheeks.

She didn't notice. Either that, or she didn't say anything.

"The party starts in an hour." She said as she walked into the foyer of my apartment. She was wearing make-up, I noticed, and although she normally didn't, I figured it looked quite nice on her. It brought out the color of her eyes, and I found myself staring at them, drinking them in, losing myself in them.

She looked confused at my stare, and her lips parted slightly.

"What?" She whispered, and I found myself speechless, tracing over trained responses in my head. I couldn't speak coherently. I should have slept, I should have had coffee this morning. I should have said something so that I didn't seem like an illiterate stalker, but I didn't.

Nothing seemed right, nothing would have broken the intensity of our stare.

So instead I merely coughed awkward and dropped my gaze, tracing over my bare feet. She twisted a tendril of her hair before grabbing her purse from the countertop.

"Lindsey's house is 45 minutes away though," She twirled her car keys idly around her index finger; she had finally gotten her driver's license and now had insisted on driving me, everyone, and _anyone_ everywhere possible. It was annoying, especially because her driving was so reckless that I usually ended up crouched in the bottom of my seat in fear, looking out the window between the gaps of my fingers.

"We should get going now. We don't want to late."

I nodded slowly – she was staring at me again and she looked worried. I quickly flashed a smile and brushed by her, jogging down the stairs and into the parking lot.

* * *

We were far from late. To be honest, we were probably too _early_, because Lindsey was frazzled when we opened the door, covered from head to toe in flour and stains from whatever dish she was making.

"Are we early?" Tegan asked and I sent her a glare. _Of course we are, you dumb shit, you only drove 80 mph the whole time._ She returned my glare as Lindsey pulled us inside.

"You're fine." She said, obviously preoccupied. "You can help me set up!"

"Oh, great."I grumbled; sleep deprivation was making me far grumpier than I had the right to be.

"Just come on." Tegan pressed her hand against my back and I shrugged her off, glaring.

"Don't fucking touch me, okay?" I hissed and she simply rolled her eyes and walked past me into the foyer. She threw a box of decorations at me and I caught it half-heartedly. I fished through recycled ribbons and banners, running my fingers over the edges of them. I could feel it clawing at my throat again, that insistent melancholy that made it more than hard to swallow. I tried to choke it down, like always, hating that it had come over me like this, hating how weak I felt. I wondered if I moved too fast, would my bones break down? Just like that?

Tegan's eyes were pressing into my back now, burning holes through the cotton of my shirt and straight to my nerves. She was worried, I could feel it, and I wanted to tell her – I wanted to tell all of them - to _shut the fuck up, _that I was _perfectly fine_, even if I wasn't. I didn't deserve their pity.

I idly twisted a ribbon around my finger.

"Hey," I felt Tegan's hand loop around my forearm and pull me up to her side. "Help me with this banner. I'm not tall enough."

I shrugged off her hand. "Well Tegan, we're practically the same height, so I won't be much help-"

"Get on my shoulders then." She leaned down and a smile wormed its way onto her face, painting creases in her cheeks.

"No!" I said, and I felt like we were 10 again, fucking around in my mom's living room.

"Come on, Sara-"

"I'm not a fucking kid, we're gonna look like idiots-"

"Okay, whatever. Nobody's here except for Lindsey, and she's not paying attention. Just get on my back-"

"No!"

Tegan groaned, impatient now, and caught my wrist in her hand. She pulled me over, hard, and I nearly tripped over her, clutching at her neck for support. And before I could let go, she rose to her feet and I was left dangling on her back. I twisted my thighs around her waist and twined my fingers around her neck.

"You're a loser." I mumbled in her ear, still catching my breath as she laughed and stumbled over to the opposite wall.

"You have to admit it, that was pretty impressive." She had a cheeky grin on her face, and for once I didn't have the urge to slap it right off her face. I hid my smile in her neck.

"Shut up and hand me the ribbon."

* * *

Tegan had told me it would be a small party, _maybe a few dozen people at most_, all crammed into Lindsey's gigantic apartment.

She had lied.

There was at least 50 people (_54 people_, I was later informed by a very drunk Sarah Bastian) pressed into the apartment, laying lopsided on the couches and chairs. I stood awkwardly by the kitchen, clutching my half empty bottle of Amstel Light to my hip. It churned uneasily – much like my stomach – and I pressed the mouth of my bottle to my lips. Tegan was across the room, constantly stroking the neck of what had to be her third bottle of beer; she spotted me looking and grinned, motioning me over.

I smiled and shook my head in a polite _no, thanks._

She rolled her eyes and quickly excused herself, stumbling over to me.

"Tegan, I'm fine." I insisted before she had even opened her mouth. I already knew what she was going to say, I already knew the list of questions she would ask me: _Are you okay? Are you feeling well? Are you thinking about Emy?_

She shrugged, and leaned up against my hip. I could practically taste the beer on her lips.

"I just wanted to say hi." Her voice was low and husky, and it excited places on my body that it shouldn't. I shouldn't have thought her voice sounded sexy. I shouldn't have wanted to kiss that damned smile right off her nude lips. It was beer – that was it – I was drinking too much.

"Well, hi." I said simply and pressed my beer to my lips. She grinned and touched my hand softly. "When you want to stop being a loner, come join us okay?" She winked at me before sauntering back off to her friends.

I sighed and leaned my head back against the wall. I shut my eyes, slowly, trying to block out the pumping bass of the stereo or the insistent chatter of the people around me.

I wanted to go home.

Fuck, I didn't even _know_ what I wanted.

"Hey," I blinked my eyes open to see a very drunk blonde girl walked up to me, twisting her hair around my fingers. "I'm Heather." Her voice oozed like the beer in her hand, and she smiled a provocative smile that made me nervous.

"I can't do this." I mumbled, more to myself than her. I politely excused myself and rushed out to the balcony.

The fresh air hit me and pushed my skin back against my bones. But it felt _wonderful_, and I grinned into the wind; it made me feel delirious in the best way possible. I idly swigged my beer and leaned my elbows up against the railing.

"Sara?"

Tegan shut the door behind her as she walked beside me, still fingering an empty beer bottle. She leaned her arms against the railing, her position mimicking mine as she tried to look me in the eye. But my gaze stayed determined on the bustling Montreal street below us, with its flashing lights and couples holding hands.

I felt my heart ache, and I told it to shut the fuck up.

Tegan stayed silent and let her gaze move from me to the ground. I could hear the party inside getting excited, and before I knew it they were yelling: _10, 9, 8_….

"Sara, we should go inside." She whispered, twisting her fingers around my sleeve. The gesture was enough to bring the melancholy back, choking up my throat, and I strugged to hold back tears.

I wouldn't cry, not in front of Tegan.

_7, 6, 5…_

"Sara," She mumbled, watching me as I bit my lip, almost hard enough to draw blood.

_4,3,2, 1._

And before I could cover my ears, the crowd broke out in yells of _HAPPY NEW YEAR! _and that was enough to break me down, it was enough to break the block of melancholy into a strangled sob, and it ripped its way out of my throat and into the stagnant air.

"Oh, Sara…" Tegan whispered and pulled me close, clutching my head to her shoulder and rubbed small circles on my back. She whispered incoherently into my hair, soothingly, and I hated how weak I was, I hated how I was so goddamned _fragile, _I hated that with Emy it was always _making love_, not having sex – as if her being too rough would break my straight in half.

I was so sick of it.

Before I knew it I had pulled away, using the railing to hold myself steady. Tegan was staring at me, her finger still brushing the front of my shirt. "C'mon, Sara, let's go home." She whispered, and I could taste the pity that coated her words. I ground my teeth together and met her gaze. And before I could stop myself I tangled my fingers in Tegan's hair and crushed her mouth to mine. Her eyes were wide, staring into my eyelids – I wouldn't look at her, I wouldn't let myself, I just wanted her and I _needed _her, and I felt my heart pick up as her lips started to move against mine. Her fingers twisted tighter into the front of my shirt and her eyes fluttered closed; she let out a low moan as I ran my tongue over her teeth and she ground her hips into mine. "Fuck, Sara." She grumbled into my mouth as I pressed up her against the railing.

I didn't know what the fuck I was doing. Maybe it was the alcohol speaking, or maybe it was the exhaustion, or maybe it was that tonight, more than ever, Tegan had been there for me when no one else was. Maybe it was how her body molded perfectly to mine, maybe it was how I wanted to melt myself into her.

Maybe it was insanity, but I never wanted to stop.

She pulled away after a moment, nearly panting, both of our eyes filled with lust that we shouldn't have felt.

"I…uhh… thanks?" She looked embarrassed now and I couldn't help but grin.

"Shut up." I mumbled and crushed my lips back to hers. I reached around her and picked up the half empty – pardon me, half _full_ – beer bottle and dumped it over the edge.

Maybe I wouldn't hate this New Year's, after all.


	2. Joints

**Im sorry this chapter is so short, and I'm sorry that it took me so long to get this out... I have a lot in store for this story, so don't give up on me here! Thanks to all who reviewed the first chapter, it means so much and it really motivates me to keep updating. This story may move up to M depending on how steamy I feel like making it eventually ;) Enjoy! Lyrics from the wonderful song Joints by Holly Miranda.**

* * *

T:

I woke up with a headache and a sour taste in my mouth.

The apartment was still dark, the blinds drawn messily across the window frame, tied over and knotted multiple times - as if to keep any glimpse of light hidden. I had a quick vision – blurry from the alcohol that had turned the previous night into a kaleidoscope of faces – of Sara, her hair mussed from either my hands or the wind, I couldn't remember, tying closed the blinds with maniacal strokes. She had yelled something, something about _that damned light_, but my lack of recollection made her intoxicated voice incoherent. A wave of anxiety washed over me for no apparent reason, and I thought about the things I must have said to Sara, the things I must have done, and I suddenly felt out of place on my own couch. I readjusted myself, getting up from my lopsided position and onto my feet. A wave of dizziness hit me immediately and I clung to the arm of the sofa to steady myself.

_Deep breaths, Tegan. Breathe._

The door to my room was open, and even in the darkness I could make out Sara's figure, splayed out on the mattress in sleep. I felt my throat start to close, and I wasn't sure if it was from the hangover or nerves. I tip-toed into my room, ignoring how the sheets twisted around Sara's frame like a lustful lover, or how her mouth was open ever-so-slightly, her tongue brushing her lips with each breath.

I just stood there, awkwardly twisting my shirt between my fingers, not sure of if I should wake her or wait for her to wake on her own. Hell, I probably shouldn't have been watching her in the first place.

I suddenly craved the taste of nicotine that I hadn't wanted for a year.

But luckily, before my mind could wander or I lost track of time altogether, she breathed a heavy sigh and arched back against the mattress. I heard her bones crack and joints shake before she yawned and straightened up against the headboard. She glanced over at the window before noticing me; she jumped up in surprise and slammed her head against the wall.

"Jesus, Tegan, you want to say something next time?" She snapped, now rubbing her head softly.

"Sorry." I mumbled, my voice awkward and hoarse from lack of use. That, or lack of sleep. Or the hangover. One of the three. She twisted her hair lightly behind her ear, and it seemed that my awkward one-word answer had left the room suffocated with an uncomfortable silence, raising the hairs on my arms.

Sara slid onto her feet and suddenly refused to look at me, and I knew we were picturing the same thing: her warm lips on mine, slightly chapped and stained with beer, her tongue in my mouth, her hand on my hip, my mind buzzing with a need that I should haven't felt, but did anyway.

And then I noticed how pale her face was, the way her fingers brushed over her lips and I realized that maybe _I _was the only one thinking about that.

"Sara?" I was worried now, watching as she clung to the bedpost to keep her balance. She put her hand up to quiet me and I saw her hand worm her way onto her stomach. Sara never bode well with hangovers, I knew that well enough, and she usually spent the day kneeled over beside the toilet, grimy hands clutching the seat.

And as she rushed past me and into the bathroom, I figured this day would be no different.

I tried to block out the noises she was making, and I diligently waited outside the bathroom door until they had died down. Once I was sure it was safe, I gently pried open the door and strode in carefully.

"Are you okay?" I kneeled down beside her, watching her nails dig into the porcelain toilet; I wasn't sure if it was from her nausea or how close I was to her, our arms nearly brushing. I rocked back onto my heels to give her more room.

"Fine." She said responded so quickly and quietly that I hardly caught it. She twisted a falling tendril of hair behind her ear and I watched her cautiously, trying my best to not make her uncomfortable. Sara was always one to hide her vulnerability - she never liked to show weakness and I respected that. And by the look in her eye, this seemed to constitute as one of those "vulnerable moments"; she seemed uncomfortable and this feeling transferred to me, until I was awkwardly rubbing her back, rocking on my heels.

I cleared my throat, and it seemed to bring back her nausea, and I looked away to give her as much privacy as I could.

And suddenly I couldn't stand the image of her, so exposed by the toilet, knuckles bruised and throat inflamed; I stumbled to my feet and started for the door.

"Tegan, wait." Sara's hand shot out and clung to the sleeve of my shirt. Her fingers were clammy and sweat-laden; it made my grasp slippery and flimsy when I twined my fingers with hers.

She fumbled for her words, delirious from the nausea. I let her take her time, watching as she rolled over the words with her tongue like a sweet kiss, before she mumbled, "Do you think you can go to the store and get me some soda water and aspirin?"

I smiled and gave her hand and idle squeeze. " Yeah, of course. Are you sure you'll be okay here alone-"

"I'll be fine." She cut in quickly, seemingly annoyed by my question. I quickly dropped the subject and left her hand at her side.

"I'll be back in ten minutes, I promise." I called as I grabbed the keys from the counter, not even bothering to change out of last-night's outfit as I slid on my coat.

I heard her mumble something from the bathroom, rendered incoherent from the distance; I simply yelled a goodbye and walked out the door.

* * *

S:

I loved claustrophobia. Tegan always seemed to think it strange, but I didn't – it was a routine for me, it was comfortable. I would slip into my closet every time (virtually any) emotion came over me. I would listen to the scrape of my shoes on the floorboards and lock the door, pressing my back to the cold plaster of the walls and just listened to my breathing.

_In, out. In, out._

And every time I felt my world tilting, I knew where to find all four walls, I could scrape my nails against them, and I could leave my feet steady and stable on the floor. I knew where everything was in that damned room: the old magazines that I was too tired to read, the dust mites that floated lazily through the room, the light bulb hanging from the ceiling that surely burnt out, but was never replaced. It was an odd sense of control that I could find nowhere else, and I craved it suddenly, and I bee-lined straight for the closet.

I had finally managed to calm down my stomach, and now its gurgled impatiently as I crouched into the corner. I sighed heavily and leaned my head back against the wall, ignoring the ache in my ribcage that ached slowly and deeply with each breath.

I scratched my hand idly, feeling the dead skin litter off like garbage in the street, although I couldn't see it. The air in the room was compressed to the point that I could hear my heartbeat in my ears, a slow, painfully increasing cadence. I let my fingers trail the hems of worns shirts and pants, painting the image of them in my mind. I had worn them so many times that they seem recycled now, and I wanted to tear them down, I wanted to rip them up with my bare hands so I could recreate myself in new clothes, in new skin.

My fingers paused at something soft and unfamiliar, and my heart stopped. I lifted myself to my feet and ignored my trembling bones as I stripped the shirt from the hanger. I knew what it was, even in the dark, because I had put in there that drunken night when she left.

It was Emy's shirt.

I slid the shirt over my head – she was always taller than me, so it hung down so low that it brushed against my thighs. I curled myself back in the corner and drew my knees to my chest; the shirt pressed so close to my nostrils that it burned them, burned the smell of her that still lingered on the fabric into me until I could practically taste her on my tongue.

_I can feel it in my joints,  
it aches and creaks and there's no point._

I recalled how Tegan used to complain to me of her heartache when we were young, and how I would secretly deem her weak and pathetic. I used to selfishly pride myself that I would never let someone worm their way into my heart, and the thought now made me feel desperate and pathetic – how could I not only let Emy into my heart, but into my very bones as well? How could I let myself become so weak?

And I stuffed her shirt into my mouth so that it could strange away the sorrow, and I immersed myself in silent sobs and screams and let them shake my body like a capsizing ship.


	3. Ghosts Under Rocks

**Hooray, chapter 3! I tried to make this a bit longer because of how short the 2nd chapter was... thank you for all of your wonderful reviews, they really mean the world to me! My new best friend, saraxtegan, has an incredible story called "This Business of Sainthood", and I cannot stress enough that you all check it out. I, for one, am completely hooked on it, and it is a wonderfully, beautifully written story that you don't want to miss! **

T:

I rushed out of the grocery store, the bottle of soda water that was stuffed hastily under my arm damn near to spilling on the street. I ignored it and fished for my keys with trembling fingers; I was already behind schedule, my ten minute promise to Sara now stretched to at least twenty. Maybe thirty, but I couldn't be bothered to check my watch.

I managed to yank open the car door and threw it into drive before I had even closed the door. My car had taken abuse that would probably be illegal if that kind of thing was frowned upon, but I ignored its squeals and protests and rushed onto the interstate. My fingers rattled on the steering wheel, following the cadence of a song on the radio I didn't know. It had started to rain by the time I pulled into Sara's apartment complex, so much so that even when I rushed into the elevator I could still hear it, sliding down the walls and whispering sweet rhythms in my ear.

The apartment was dark when I entered it, and it immediately set me uneasy as I fumbled for the light on the wall. My fingers were clammy from an emotion I couldn't place, and it ate away at my nerves until I had to set the groceries down on the floor and claw mindlessly at the wall until my nail nicked the switch. It set the room alive with light and I recoiled at the sudden influx, clumsily grabbing the soda water as my eyes adjusted.

When I could finally see, I was faced with an empty apartment. The sheets of the couch were thrown up against the walls, leaving the sofa barren and empty, left to reveal all its dirty blemishes and flaws to the world's hungry eyes. The sight made my stomach clench uneasily, and suddenly my mind was frantic, grasping at thoughts too flimsy to hold.

"Sara?" I asked, my heart beating so maniacally in my ears that I could hardly register the sound of my own voice. I set down the soda water again and set for Sara's room, feet tripping and slipping on the floor in some kind of desperate gait, not slowing until I stepped through the threshold. Her room was dark, seemingly untouched by the light of the foyer, and it made my entrance slow and feeble with fingers clawing at the walls for balance, desperate steps rendered hesitant and searching.

"Sara?" I called again, hearing my voice echo off the walls and fizzle away in the dark room. My fingers curled around the knob of her closet, and I pried it open slowly.

It was black, pitch black, and I let the disappointed breath I had been holding beneath my ribcage slip out between my lips. I turned to leave, tracing the lists of places she could have gone, the places she must have been hiding-

I heard a rustle of fabric against skin, so miniscule that I was surprised my tired ears caught it. I narrowed my eyes enough to make out the edges of a body, pressed so tight into the wall that she could have faded into it. I mumbled her name unconsciously as I searched for the light, yanking on the frayed light bulb cord in vain three times before giving up. I slid down to my knees and fished for my cell phone to give me some kind of illumination.

Sara's head was leaned back against the wall, lips parted slightly, her shirt hitched messily at her ribs. There was something almost macabre about it, and for a moment I let the insistent panic take hold as my fingers fumbled along her neck, searching for a pulse. Once I found it, I let my shoulders slump and my breathing relax, chiding myself over and over: _of course she's not dead, of course she's not, she's only asleep._

She was clutching something tightly to her chest – an old t-shirt from the looks of it – and I gently tried to pry it from her hands. She stirred idly, and I watched as her eyelids lifted to reveal red-rimmed eyes, still glossy from sleep. Her lips parted and she narrowed her eyes, shaking her head, stretching her bones, moving her eyes back to me. Her movements were nauseatingly quick, like a rabbit set to run, and before I knew it she was on top of me. Her fingers clawed at my shirt, desperately, and she hissed sleep-drunk sentiments into my neck, from which I could make out: _leave… leave, please, I just… I just want to sleep._ It made my skin crawl more than her fingers, and I let out a yelp as she scratched along my arm. "Fuck, Sara! Sara, you're asleep!" I yelled, grabbing her shoulders and holding her from me. She struggled in my grip and blinked frantically before she was able to shake the sleep from her bones and look me clean in the eye.

"Tegan." She grumbled, and the way my name fell from her lips made it sound like a sigh of relief. She sat up, straddling me slightly and the position made heat rush to my cheeks and to places of my body it shouldn't have. I was glad she couldn't see my embarrassment in the darkness. She swung her hips off of me and stumbled to her feet, the old t-shirt still wrapped around her middle. I pried it from her skin and she looked ashamed as I held it up to the flickering light of my cell phone.

"Who's is this-"

"Mine." Sara said hastily, grabbing it and throwing it to the top shelf of the closet. She pushed by me, and I tried to ignore the way her hips pressed into me. I blamed it on loneliness.

I followed her through the darkness that she somehow managed to navigate in effortlessly, walking gracefully like a ghost that I could hardly see. I felt the urge to grab her hand that dangled limply at her side, but I was afraid my hand would fall straight through.

She sat at the counter, and the light made her look fragile, nearly like a child. I swallowed the lump in my throat and pushed the soda water and aspirin to her; she gave me a small thankful smile, but merely spun the bottle idly on the counter.

"Hey," I propped my elbows up on the counter and sat adjacent to her. She looked up slowly, and although her gaze met mine, I couldn't shake the feeling that she was looking through me. "How about we go out tonight? For dinner or something. We can go wherever you want, my treat."

She dropped her gaze and bit her lip, softly, as if to test how hard it would be to break right through the skin. My skin crawled again and she sighed lowly.

"Tegan, I don't really-"

"Come on, it will be fun!" I could tell she was annoyed, but I persisted anyway. I swung around the counter and placed my hands on her shoulders. "Fresh air, good food, hell, we can go get McFlurries like we used to. I mean, I don't think we need the calories, but whatever-"

"Okay, okay, just get off of me." She was chuckling now, and I smiled and dropped my hands from her. She strolled into her room and I idly played with my car keys until she finished changing. She emerged a moment later, her jacket tucked neatly under her arm as she ran a hand through her hair.

"Can we go to Tony's? I'm dying for pizza." She hastily slid into her coat, and I watched her cautiously, taken aback by her sudden change in demeanor. I hadn't dared to ask her _why _she had been jammed into the back of her closet, and when she looked at me, her eyes still circled red, I knew I couldn't take the answer.

So I dropped it, painted a smile on my face, and prayed that it was strong enough to last the whole night.

* * *

Tony's was nearly empty, save for an elderly couple tucked in the back of the restaurant. Sara slid into a booth in the back and I followed suit and sat across from her.

"Can we get mushrooms? I've been craving it for weeks." Her eyes were glued to the menu, scanning back and forth, and I watched her wordlessly. My eyes caught the rise and fall of her breathing, the way she licked her lips here and there, the way she brushed her hair from her eyes idly-

"Tegan?" Sara looked up at me now, pursing her lips in annoyance when she realized I wasn't listening.

"Did you say something?" I asked and she shook her head, mumbling a quick _nevermind_ under her breath.

"No, really, what did you say?" My hands unconsciously caught hers and her head shot up, startled. Her eyes froze in mine for a moment and the stagnant air seemed to freeze, and I found myself holding my breath, as if letting it go would break me. She jerked her hands from my grip and set them on her lap. My stomach turned uneasily, and I shifted awkwardly in my chair.

The waiter approached our table before the awkwardness reached a nauseating level, and he flipped his notepad idly as he asked for our orders.

"A large mushroom pizza." Sara said with a smile and I nonchalantly ordered a Coke, not having much of an appetite at this point.

"You should really eat something," Sara said as she handed the waiter our menus, still refusing to look me in the eye as she settled in her seat. "Mom may accuse you of being anorexic again."

She was joking, I could tell, but there was a slight inch of scorn in her voice that made my fingers clench over the lip of the table.

"Yeah well, I'm sure Mom has other shit to worry about. Maybe if I told her you kissed me, she'd probably be a _bit _less worried about my eating habits." Sara's eyes met mine immediately and she pursed her lips, angry now.

"What the fuck is your problem?" She hissed, leaning forward as to not attract attention. For some unknown reason, probably related hormones or aging or some other headline plague, it made me angrier, and I leaned towards her with clenched teeth. "I don't have a problem, Sara. It happened, didn't it? I'm not going to lie to myself-"

"I'm not denying it, Tegan." She snapped, straightening back against the seat and folded her arms over her middle tightly. "I'm just not going to discuss it. We were drunk, it wasn't a big deal."

I wasn't in the mood for an argument so I dropped it, trying to push aside the fact that I was furious and that my temper was pressing holes through my skin, begging to be released, clawing at my bones. She sighed and pressed her thumbs to her temples slowly.

The food arrived moments later but I simply watched Sara eat, spinning my straw around idly inside its can. Sara offered me a piece between bites, pizza clinging to her teeth as she grinned. I couldn't help but smile back, and in that moment it seemed as if the tension had faded from the room.

It felt as if things had gone back to normal.

But then I noticed in an idle glance something that made my heart hiccup in its rhythm; I caught the glimpse of a razorblade's messy handwriting scribbled on the inside of her wrist, and I swung out and caught her hand as she ate.

"What the fuck, Tegan-" She paused when she noticed my expression. Her mood changed abruptly, like a sudden lane change, and she shifted awkwardly in her seat. I ran my fingertip over the little scratches, now bubbled and starting to scab.

"Sara…" I breathed, not sure what to think or say or how to breathe or how to function, and how could I let it get this bad, how could I be so fucking blind-

"Tegan, it's not that big of a deal." She seemed to have noticed my mind running rampant, and gently eased her wrist of out of my grip until our fingers were touching.

"Of course it's a big deal." My voice was hoarse and sounded alien to my own ears. She sighed and eased herself away from me.

"Can we just leave?" She had already begun to slip on her coat, obviously not caring about my answer or the fact that over half of her pizza still remained.

"Finish eating."

"Look, Tegan, I just want to go home-"

"Fucking eat it, Sara, I paid ten dollars for your stupid pizza."

Sara looked taken aback by the roughness of my voice, and hesitantly grabbed a slice and chewed it slowly. "There." She murmured and slid out of the booth. She leaned now to tie her already-tied shoe and I grabbed my car keys and headed for the parking lot, not caring to see if she was following me.

The car ride was silent, save for Sara's uneasy shifting and her low coughs. I couldn't stand to look at her, and yet I didn't once glance in the rear view mirror in fear of catching my own reflection. How could I look myself in the eye anymore? How could I look at someone so utterly blind?

I took the elevator and Sara took the stairs.

I took the time to re-teach myself how to breathe, chiding myself in my head that I needed to talk to her, that she was probably three steps to killing herself-

"Shut up, shut up." I grumbled to no one in particular, although the man to my left seemed to take offense and got off two levels before his room. I ignored it and walked to my room with keys in hand. Sara was already waiting, sunken down against the door with her knees drawn to her chest; she lifted her head when she say me and slowly pushed to her feet. I fumbled the key in the lock and grumbled obscenities when it wouldn't open. In the corner of my eye, I could see Sara inching towards me, inchinginchinginching until she mustered up the courage to gently touch my arm.

"Tegan…" She mumbled, her voice low and trembling from lack of use. She cleared her throat and tried again.

"I'm sorry."

I scoffed and grunted when the door opened reluctantly. I threw my coat on the counter and flicked on the lights and tried my best to ignore Sara's footsteps trailing after mine.

"Tegan," She hissed and darted out in front of me. "Fucking listen, I'm sorry, what else do you want me to say?"

"You should have told me." I spat and tried to get around her. She simply followed me and blocked my steps, like kids playing king on the playground. I grit my teeth and crossed my arms over my chest.

"Told you what, exactly? What could I have said-"

"You could have said something!" I yelled exasperated now, trying desperately to get around her so I could finally sleep. Maybe then I could wake up in a live that I recognized until of this Alice and Wonderland-esque hallucination with characters that I had only heard of in books. This couldn't be my Sara, it couldn't.

"Just move." She noticed the exhaustion in my voice and gently allowed me by. As I walked by, her lips brushed my neck, and I froze for a moment.

"Goodnight." Sara mumbled, her hand brushing the inside of my wrist as she walked into her room. I watched her walk, watching the sway of her hips, and let my mind wonder if she needed me now as much as I needed her.


	4. A Break, A Pause

**Hello lovely readers! I'm sorry that it's taken me awhile to update, I've been way to busy to get on a regular updating schedule yet. I had the prvilege to see the wonderful Tegan and Sara last week at the Warner Theater and the show was INCREDIBLE. Lets just blame my lack of updating on TnS shock. I apologize that this is so short as well... I was going to add a lot more to this chapter, but instead I'm going to stuff it into the next chapter - which will be a very important one, so stick with me if you're getting bored! Okay, enough rambling. I can't thank you guys enough for your reviews and for reading, you all rule. But anways. Enjoy!**

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S:

I let my fingers curl around Tegan's doorknob, and pulled it.

Once.

Twice.

I ground my teeth together, startling my nerves, when I realized that she had locked it. She _never_ locked her door, always ranting that in times of house fires and apocalypses, she would be trapped inside her room, left to shrivel away and die.

Maybe I should have burned her door down. But instead I let out the heavy breath that had unknowingly wormed its way under my ribcage and sulked into the kitchen. The oven clock blinked a fluorescent green _7:34_, forcing me to wonder why the hell I had decided to get up this early.

But my night had been filled with restless dreaming, dreams of craving and hoping for stability, but finding none. I wrapped my finger around my wrist, feeling up the scabs like a shy lover until I was able to convince myself that they were unimportant, merely flaws in already damaged skin.

There was a bowl of fruit sitting alone on the counter, yellowing slightly from age, and I let my fingers scrape the skin of an apple without any real will to eat it. I should have eaten, I hadn't eaten a damn thing but a slice or two of pizza in the last week, but I didn't feel the urge to.

I didn't feel most things anymore.

I sighed lowly, hushing it under my breath, as if any little utterance of noise would wake the whole damned city that was pressed into their warm beds, happily dreaming away the morning. But as I stumbled back into my room, I found myself sitting in a cold bed I didn't own with the sheets still folded neatly from a night of insomnia. I let my eyes wander to my cell phone, now fully charged on my bureau. I had the idle urge to check it, just to see if anyone was worried about me - maybe someone finally missed me - but I knew there would be no missed calls, no inquiries. And the thought alone left me with some kind of sick restlessness, growling with the notion that I was no longer comfortable in my own skin, as if it was stretched over bones that had grown too big for it. I bit down on my lip, hard enough to draw blood, and my mind whimpered with a growing weight that I couldn't stop. It pushed and pushed and my mind screamed and _screamed_ until I was on my feet grabbing the razor from the sink, set neatly aside, and locked the bathroom door behind me.

* * *

I didn't realize that hours had passed until Tegan arrived at my bathroom door with a single, hesitant knock. I could almost picture the image of her, equipped with shuffling feet and clenching fists, biting down on her lip until she mustered up the courage to talk to me. I almost chuckled at it, lazily throwing on my hoodie as she called my name with a soft voice, still hoarse from sleep.

"Sara?"

I sighed and pulled my sleeves down until they devoured my fingers and hastily opened the door. Tegan had been leaning on it and nearly fell into me; I quickly caught her arm to steady her.

"Sorry." She grumbled, her cheeks aflame with embarrassment as she pulled herself out of our awkward embrace. "I uh, made breakfast. If you want some."

Her eyes darted from the floor to mine, caught my gaze for an instant, before shooting back to the ground. I grit my teeth and was suddenly angry at how she had forced us into such an awkward cycle, so much so that I merely pushed around her and headed for the kitchen.

"Well fuck, Sara. You don't have to have any if you don't want to-"

"I'm going out."I said simply, grabbing my bag as she followed after me. She was wearing my sweatpants, I noticed, and for some reason it made me sick to my stomach. It made me sick to look at her.

"Going out? Sara it's fucking 10 in the morning on a Sunday. Where are you going?" Tegan's voice was annoyed more than worried, although I could feel her glancing at my wrist, her voice probably flooded with damned therapist warnings and rehearsed interventions. She probably thought I was sick or something. I was sick, I was sick of her, I couldn't fucking look at her-

I ground my teeth together as hard as possible in effort to shut up my reeling mind.

"It doesn't matter, Tegan." I sighed and spun around to face her. She looked like someone I just met, refusing to meet my eyes as she bit down on her lip. Was she embarrassed? Was she ashamed? My teeth gnashed and the guilt bubbled up like acid, coating the walls of my stomach.

_This is your fault. It's your fault she's hurting._ I ignored my conscience and pulled my sleeve down lower. I had the urge to brush the stray hair from her eyes in some kind of comforting gesture, but it just wouldn't fit, not with my trembling fingers and the look in her eye. I dropped it and instead turned on my heel, walking towards the door.

"Sara, wait." She darted her hand out and caught my wrist. I gave a low gasp and winced, yanking it back as hard as my arm allowed, nearly taking Tegan with me.

"Shit." I grumbled, for her grasp had opened up the nearly-fresh wounds, and I rushed to the counter to fumble for a napkin. I could feel Tegan's eyes boring into me, and the silence was almost too much for me to bear. It made my bones heavy in my skin. It made it damn near impossible to face Tegan, I didn't want to see her face, I couldn't.

But I forced myself, and when I did she was staring at me, her mouth trembling in some kind of painful expression that hurt more than my aching wrist. She walked over to me and leaned around to grab a paper towel; she gently twined it around my wrist, her fingers brushing my skin in small gentle strokes as she adjusted it.

"I got you a hotel room." Tegan finally broke the silence, and her voice was oddly steady. I wished she would cry or at least give me some kind of notion of what she was feeling. But instead she gently pressed down the paper towel, over and over and _over_ again until it was too much for me to take; I ripped my wrist to my side and glared at her.

"What the fuck are you talking about, Tegan?"

"I…" She sighed, her voice growing hoarse and she fumbled for her words. "You just have to give me some time. I… I can't take this," She gave an absent gesture towards my wrist, avoiding eye contact all the while. "And since I can't seem to help you at all, it's probably better that you go it alone."

_Since I can't seem to help you._ The words stung and made the breaths heavy and painful beneath my ribcage. I wanted to scream at her that I _needed _her, that I wouldn't be able to handle it alone, but my pride ate away at the words until they disintegrated in my throat before I could let them out.

"It's only ten minutes away. If you need me or something, you can just call. " She whispered and finally looked to face me. Her hands were twisted in the front of her shirt – something she tended to do when she was nervous – but suddenly it seemed mocking and nearly cruel. It seemed so formal, like closing off a business deal.

She was staring at me, waiting for an answer that I couldn't give. What did she want me to say? Did she want me to refuse? I sighed and tried to push my way past her. It was difficult, given the fact that we were crammed into her small kitchen, and my hips brushed far too tightly to hers. She stopped me and held my free wrist; I could feel her breath on my neck, pricking goosebumps on my skin. And I fumbled with the two things that had suddenly severed us: this sick, mind-reeling attraction between us, and my bleeding wrist, now hidden behind my hip.

"Let me go, Tegan." I mumbled, my words reverberating off her skin and back down my throat, choking up my senses and setting my nerves on edge. Her eyes flickered down to my lips and my heart pounded at the thought of her own lips on mine again, this time without a blurry mind and dull senses. But she thought better of it and dropped my wrist, her body painting intimate strokes on mine as she brushed past.

* * *

My bags were packed within the next half hour.

Tegan had helped although I protested, insisting that it was _only polite_. And I couldn't help but wonder as she leaned over my battered and worn suitcase if it was merely an act of politeness or a plea for forgiveness.

She walked me to the metro. I could have walked to the hotel directly, I realized, for the metro station was 15 minutes away with another 15 to get to the hotel. But I didn't want to lose her, despite the fact that she was pushing me away now. I tried not to think about it. I tried not to think about the uncomfortable bed I would be sleeping in tonight, marked by years of lovers making sweet love or loners restlessly tossing and turning. I figured I would join the latter ranks.

The metro finally came 5 minutes late, tumbling and chortling down the track in a dusty gait. I cleared my throat as people started to board, grabbing my small bags by my side.

I turned to Tegan with a mouth full of empty words that weren't nearly enough to fill the silence, despite the bustling crowd next to us. "Well," I idly shifted my bags from hand to hand. "Bye-" She darted forward and pressed a small kiss to my cheek, just under my ear. It was awkward and clumsy and it would have made me smile if I had the strength.

"Can you call me when you get settled? Please?" Her voice was flimsy and I nodded and tried to smile, but it came out as a broken grimace. I shifted my bags once more and boarded the train, still feeling the remnants of Tegan's lips on my cheek and her stare in my soul as the train rumbled into the tunnel.


	5. Come Clean

**I'm so sorry that this has taken me so long to get out. I have been ridiculously busy with school and spring break trips and such (excuses, excuses, I know) but this chapter is a big one so I hope you guys like it! I changed the rating to M because of this chapter, so just be warned for that. I tried to make it long for you all, though. :) Thank you SO MUCH for all your fabulous reviews, It seriously means the world that you all like my measly writing, let alone call this story your favorite. Honestly, thank you. Now, enjoy!**

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S:

The light hit me like an anchor as I slid off the bus. I struggled with my bags, hobbling unsteadily on the pavement, yet no one offered their help. No one even glanced in my direction.

I bit down on my lip and gnawed hesitantly, shielding my eyes from the sun; in my mind and throughout the short bus ride (although it seemed painfully long), I had convinced myself it would be nighttime, or maybe that Tegan had changed her mind and was waiting for me outside. Neither was true, and it made my steps impossibly heavy and difficult.

I walked onto the sidewalk and hummed under my breath with some will that maybe if I hummed loud enough, I could drown out all my fear and insecurity and forget about the suddenly terrifying situation I was in. But by the time I rounded the corner and entered the hotel, I was trembling with some kind of unforeseen fear that I couldn't control.

I was alone. Completely and totally alone.

I grit my teeth and had to remind myself that it was _my fault_ I was in this mess, and although this statement was my attempt to inject some sort of purpose in my bones, my bags still felt painfully heavy as I approached the front desk.

The man at the desk flashed a smile and asked in a voice surprisingly attentive for the worn mask he was wearing: "Can I help you, dear?"

I tried to ignore the fact that he had called me _dear_ despite the fact that I was at least 5 years older than him. It seemed fitting, though. I felt so tired.

It took me a moment to realize that he had actually asked me a question – _fuck, Sara, how old are you now? _– and I fumbled with my words like a damned toddler.

"I, uh… My sister. She got me a room. I don't really know what name she put it under, she usually handles this stuff. U-uh, probably. Quin. What? My first name? Oh, Sara. Sara Quin."

The light took its time as I turned the switch, bubbling and buzzing before dimly lighting the room. There was a twin bed in the corner – _oh, the irony_ – and a small bureau and mirror. It was sparse and barren, but I didn't mind. It was better to have less to get attached to, anyway.

I pushed my suitcase against the bed without any real intention to unpack it; living out of my suitcase was always easier for me, I knew where everything was at all times so there was no chance of losing anything. I tossed my Blackberry on the bed and Tegan's words filled my head: _Can you call me when you get settled? Please?_

I sighed and ignored her voice whispering in my head and walked into the bathroom instead. There was one of those showers you would find in a public gym, without any curtain or glass for privacy. It made me feel exposed and uncomfortable just looking at it, so I promptly turned away to face my reflection in the mirror.

I looked old, almost sickly, with bags under my eyes that were far too pronounced. I wanted to take a shower, but not in the fucking rapist death trap in the bathroom, so I simply pulled open my suitcase and threw on a new outfit. As I stepped into my jeans, I caught sight of my phone, lying on the bed beside my watch and the other things I was too lazy to clean up. With scorn, I thought of the cruel irony that, of course, when I was still half-naked, I would think of my sister.

"Godfuckingdamnit." I grumbled as I hastily threw on my shirt and dialed Tegan's number. It went straight to her answering machine, which meant she either ignored my call or her phone was off. Her phone was off, that was it. But my voice still sounded rather pathetic when I finally spoke: "Yeah Tegan, it's me. You told me to call, so this is me calling." I paused and tried to think of something to say without making a fool of myself, but after mulling in silence for about a minute, I realized I had already achieved that. I hung up without another word.

After staring at my blank phone's screen for twenty minutes and flipping absently through TV channels, I found myself annoyed and restless with a craving to get out of that fucking hotel room. I figured even if I had nowhere to go, _anywhere_ was better than that unhygienic limbo. I grabbed my cardigan, stuffed my phone in my pocket, and left the room without even bothering to lock it.

* * *

It was around 6:00 by the time I managed to find my way out of the hotel and onto Ste. Catherine Street. It was finally dark and undoubtedly colder than I had expected; I unconsciously shivered and wrapped my cardigan tighter to my body. The street was unfamiliar in the night, proving merely to be a sad realization of the fact that, despite the fact that I had lived in Montreal for nearly a year, I still hadn't gone out at night more than twice. I coiled my fingers around my cardigan and pulled it tighter.

Ste. Catherine Street was named by all the tourist books and city maps as the main street of Montreal, and I had driven through it on the city bus at least a dozen times. And yet, in the dark, I could hardly make out anything familiar, save for a local bar down the street that I had played a gig or two at in restlessness between tours. Hell-bent on something to ease my mind, and now suddenly craving a strong drink, I j-walked across the crosswalk and pushed open the doors.

I was not one of those regulars that could just stroll in and spin onto a stool like in the movies. Instead I paused for a moment on my initial entrance, lingering in the threshold, doubting myself in the face of old-time friends and drunks having a good time. I was merely a restless girl with no other place to go. I spied an empty stool on the far end of the bar and dashed to it, slipping onto it so quietly that it took at least 15 minutes for the bartender to notice me.

He smiled apologetically and slid down towards me. "My apologies, miss." He smiled again, warmly, and I figured I could like this lonely bartender. Maybe I would even get to join some of the regulars sometime soon. "Didn't see you there. What can I get you?"

"Just a beer." I gave a small smile.

"Oh come on, live a little." Over my shoulder, I saw a woman swing around the stool next to me. She was noticeably beautiful, with warm brown eyes and slender legs that I found myself staring at for a little too long. Her beauty was almost intimidating, so much so that I couldn't even bring myself to look her in the eye. "Get her a gin and tonic, Paul. It's on me."

She turned to me now, smiling warmly, and I mumbled a quick thank you under my breath. It was leagues less than graceful, but she merely grinned a white-toothed grin and giggled softly.

"Anytime," She idly spun around the glass of her already finished drink. "I'm Brianna, by the way."

"I'm Sara. Thanks for the drink, again." Somehow I had sporadically re-developed my gift of speech, and luckily, my voice came out much smoother than expected. She smiled and winked lightly. "If you say thank you again, I'll have to make you buy me one in return."

Her voice was genial and friendly, not flirtatious, and I reckoned that I was in the mood for a friend rather than a lover, anyway. She was impressively easy to talk to and subsequently, with the more drinks I drank, the more secrets I let slip between my teeth.

After the 5th gin and tonic, I had let slip the fact that Emy had broken me clean in half. Brianna merely laughed genuinely, mumbled something along the lines of _whatta sucker, that Amy chick. Or whatever. _and I easily laughed back. She spoke about something that, at the time, sounded ridiculously funny and I nearly spit out half of my drink laughing.

"Wait, wait," Brianna sputtered between laughs. "I have just the thing for us." She was suddenly impossibly focused as she dug through her purse, and I played with the melting ice in my glass as she looked. I nearly fell out of my seat at the sound of _Lion In A Coma_ in my ear, and caught my breath for a good 30 seconds before realizing that it was _my_ phone that was ringing. It took me 6 minutes to realize that my phone was lazily sitting in my pocket, and another 1 minute to open it. By that time, _Lion In A Coma_ had replayed at least 3 times and a large _one missed call_ flashed across my screen.

Tegan.

For some reason, the thought of calling her foreshadowed an abrupt end to my suddenly wonderful night, so instead I powered off my phone and let it sleep in my pocket. "Who was that?" Brianna had finally managed to dig whatever the hell she was so intent on finding out of her purse, and now looked at me expectantly.

"No one important." I shot back quickly.

She raised a brow. "You sure?"

"Yeah. Definitely. Definitely definitely sure." My voice sounded rather foolish, even in my drunken ears, but I didn't give a damn. Brianna merely grinned and offered her hand as she hopped down from her stool. I took it immediately and hobbled down.

"Where are we going?" I sounded ridiculously whiny. I didn't care.

"Outside." She said with a smile in her voice. At the time, putting one foot in front of the other proved to be a rather difficult task, and Brianna had to pull me a number of times to keep up. She pushed out of the double doors and swung around the corner with me lagging lazily behind, humming some tune whose name had slipped my mind. She stopped suddenly and I nearly ran into her back; she laughed and grabbed my forearm to keep me steady.

"It's cold." I whined, and my nose brushed her neck.

"Well, hopefully this will cheer you up." She smiled and held up a bag of something that, in the dark, looked simply like a bag full of fucking dirt.

"I don't want dirt."

She laughed, nearly hysterically until I angrily turned on my heel to go home.

"Sara, Sara, wait." She sputtered and grabbed the hem of my shirt to pull me back. I was too dizzy to fight back so I let her drag me back into her hips.

"Sorry." She struggled to paint on a straight face and keep the laughter out of her voice. "It's not dirt. It's weed."

I raised a brow. "You smoke?"

"Not all the time. Just when a good opportunity comes along." She trailed off as she sat down on the ground to roll it. I watched her, transfixed. I hadn't smoked weed since I was 17, and somehow now it seemed so much cooler. I sat down beside her.

"We're drunk."

She glanced up at me, a smile in her eyes. "This is true."

"We're really going to get high when we're drunk?"

"We're already fucked. What's left to lose?"

_What's left to lose? Nothing. I'm already lost._ In the simple attempt to get my mind to rest, I nodded enthusiastically. She grinned and struggled to pull her lighter out of her purse.

"You can have the first hit. My treat."

"You already bought me three drinks." I protested, but took the joint all the same. She grinned and clicked her lighter.

"It's okay. I like you, Sara. Now inhale."

I obeyed and inhaled.

I choked nearly a second later, and Bri laughed happily and took a hit as I coughed into my cardigan. "It _has_ been a long time since you've done this."

She sounded like she was underwater. I took another hit.

"Shut the fuck up." I snapped and she merely grinned and laughed again. She looked beautiful, even in the dark, and I was suddenly envious.

My damned lips couldn't stay closed, so I spat out: "You're beautiful."

She smiled and handed me the joint. "Inhale."

I obeyed and inhaled.

Rinse and repeat.

After we finished, I stood up shakily and took her hand in mine. My feet felt leagues above the ground and I smiled happily, pressing my nose into her shoulder.

"I'm going to walk you home now."

"I can get home by myself. It's a hotel. I can find it. I have a room."

"No fucking way. You can hardly walk."

"I… I can get there."

"Shut up."

I hiccuped and she smiled. "Which way, m'dear?"

* * *

It took 15 minutes to reach the hotel that, on a normal day, would take a 5 minute walk, at most. I didn't mind though, and took the time to fumble for my key in my pocket.

Brianna had my phone in hand, hastily typing her number in it. She typed the wrong number in twice, and grumbled as she attempted to fix it.

"There," She said happily as she handed it back to me. "Tonight was fun. We should do it again."

"Mhm. We should." I had the nearly overpowering urge to kiss her, and with some kind of alcohol-induced confidence rose to my toes to do it. She gently put her fingers to my shoulders and pushed me away. "Sara," She breathed, and suddenly couldn't meet my eyes. "I'm straight. And engaged."

My heart that was beating wildly dropped down and shriveled in my ribcage. I turned on my heel to leave, but she caught my wrist in her hand.

"I'm sorry if I led you on. I know I did. You're just so… intriguing; I don't know how to explain it." I stupidly had the urge to cry and did my best to block out my fluctuating emotions and the guilt in her voice.

"Please, Sara." Her voice trembled. I wanted to kiss her again. I wanted to shrivel away and die. I wanted a lot of things, too many things.

I didn't say anything, and instead threw open the lobby door and jogged up the stairs to my room. It took me three tries to open the door before realizing that I hadn't locked in it the first place; I slammed the door heavily behind me, annoyed and blistered at my own stupidity.

I couldn't think straight. There was a knock at my door, quick and harsh, and I grit my teeth angrily. I fumbled with the doorknob and threw it open haphazardly.

"Go the fuck _away_, Brianna."

"Who the hell is Brianna?" Tegan glanced at me slowly, raising a brow slightly. She looked tired, with dark bags under her eyes, and I wondered if her insomnia had come back. "You smell like pot. Fuck, Sara, are you high?"

I couldn't help but grin and hiccupped. "And little-"

"_And_ drunk?" She sounded angry now, and pushed past me and into the foyer. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

I shut the door and sauntered over to her. In the dim light of my hotel room and in the haze of my mind, she looked strikingly like Emy. Maybe it was Emy. She looked like Emy, I wanted it to be Emy, and so in my mind she was Emy. She had just stolen Tegan's voice.

She threaded her hands through her hair as I sat down next to her. We sat in silence for what felt like hours, and the ugly floral wallpaper of the hotel swirled and blurred in my eyes. I wanted to tear the damn thing down until my fingers bled, but I restrained myself.

"Sara," Tegan breathed my name between her fingers, and it made me want to taste her skin. Emy's skin. My Emy's skin. "You're killing me, you know that?" Her voice sounded so damn tired and I felt the guilt bubble up like acid inside my stomach. She finally turned to look me in the eye. I didn't know what to say, so I merely stared at her until she sighed and stared back at the ground. I gently leaned closer to her and laid my head on her shoulder. She smelled like Emy, I think. But then again, I couldn't remember what the hell Emy smelled like in that moment, but I convinced myself of it anyways. She sighed again and shrugged my head off of her shoulder. I swung around and attached my lips to hers, rather roughly, before I could stop myself.

She tasted like Tegan, so maybe she had stolen Tegan's lips, too.

Luckily, she didn't protest and lay back against the pillows so I could splay messily on top of her. Her fingers braided into my hair and she gasped into my lips as I dug my hips into hers. I had missed her. I had missed my Emy, no matter how much her voice sounded like Tegan, and how great she tasted, and how much I wanted her, and how I moaned Tegan's name instead of her.

My mind swam. I couldn't think.

"You taste like gin." She breathed into my neck, and before I knew it, my shirt tumbled off my shoulders and onto the floor. I hadn't even felt her take it off. "You never drink gin."

"I…" I lost my train of thought when she sucked on my collarbone and struggled to form words. "I… I was told to live a little."

"And you did that by getting drunk and high?" Her chuckled melted away as I crushed my lips back into hers.

"Shuuuup." I meant to say _shut up_, but instead I merely barked out an authoritative slur. She listened all the same and let her fingers burn fire on my skin. The minutes ticked away into a blur of tangled limbs and gasps, lips exploring places that I didn't even know existed. I caught a glimpse of our clothes messily scattered across the floor, but I didn't think about it, I hissed a loud _Emy_, but she corrected me diligently (_Tegan. My name's Tegan.)_ I didn't hear. I only felt.

My eyes blurred. I could only feel.

I gasped and burned and _needed_ and _wanted_ and once her fingers entered me, I let Emy or Tegan or whoever it was do whatever the hell she wanted.


	6. Wake

**Now you finally see how terrible of an updater I am... two months? Ridiculous. I am terribly sorry - I won't bore you with stupid excuses and let you read! readreadread **

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I woke up to the glare of light, filtering into a room that wasn't mine. It didn't faze me, and instead I rolled over, aching for more sleep. My bones were heavy, and my body ached with some kind of sick reverb that I couldn't trace.

_Her legs tangled in mine, the smoothness of her skin._

_Hands clenching bedspreads, her name on my lips, scraping against the rough edges of my throat until her name alone rubbed it raw._

I bit into my lip, cursing myself for getting so affected by a damned dream – _yeah, it had to be a dream, it had to be_. And despite the minutes I spent mulling over this, when I felt movement beside me, I felt the familiar panic set in, closing the walls around me.

There was a groan, rendered hoarse from the night before, and the brush of skin against fabric.

I prayed that the voice wouldn't be familiar. That maybe, just maybe, I had slept with a random stranger in some kind of drunken delirium.

_Anyone but her, please please please-_

But there was a sharp intake of breath, and a string of harsh obscenities that sounded almost foreign in her sweet voice. She shifted around for a moment, groaning under her breath about some _fucking hangover_, and I could almost picture her hands in her hair, tearing at the roots.

She whispered my name once, so quietly that I was sure that I imagined it. She cleared her throat like my name in itself was a sin, and tried again.

"Tegan."

She said it with some kind of ironic hope, hoping that I'd turn over any be someone else. She was hoping I'd be Emy, I was sure, and it made turning over to face her that much harder.

Sara looked disheveled, at best. To be honest, she looked as if she had just seen a ghost, with the sheets tangled almost maniacally around her shoulders to shield any piece of exposed skin. She looked at me blankly, with some kind of dull throbbing in her eyes that, if I was an idealist, I would have thought was love. But I knew better than that, I knew _her_ better than that. It was fear; it was like looking into the eyes of a desperate, starved man. It pricked goosebumps on my bare skin, and I let the silence smooth them out until my fears were just another part of my numb skin.

"I'm going to take a shower." She mumbled, more to herself then me, grabbing the bottle of aspirin from the counter as she went. She was still covered in the bed sheets, leaving me cold and exposed as she left.

I didn't care enough to more.

I didn't care enough to think.

Instead I laid haphazardly, my naked skin matching the naked bed, praying to some questionably existent being that I could wake up from this damned nightmare and go on living my life.

* * *

Sara spent nearly an hour in the bathroom, running the shower so long that the water was ice cold by the time I skittered into the tub. I washed quickly, the water shaking away any lingering desire from the previous night until I was numb all over, running a towel hastily over already dry skin. I threw on the same clothes from the night before, ignoring how Sara's smell lingered all over them like some kind of perfume. I took a shaky breath and walked out into the foyer.

Sara was laying on the cough with her feet propped. There were old cartoons flashing across the television, but she was gazing through the blinds, her mind obviously elsewhere.

I let myself wonder, just for a moment, that _maybe_ she was thinking of me. But I shook my head, reminding myself that the majority of last night was spent correcting her, telling her that _I _was making love to her, not Emy. I grit my teeth and cursed myself for letting her take me so easily, when she obviously didn't want me.

She didn't want me one damn bit.

"Sara," She lifted her head off after she muted the television. "You want to go out to breakfast? My treat."

She stared at the muted television for at least a minute, pursing her lips as she scraped up the inevitable list of excuses she had prepared over the years. But she sighed and nodded so reluctantly that I nearly took back my offer.

I felt insignificant, like some ant crawling on her wall that she could smash with her gaze alone.

"Let me grab my sweater." She whispered, her hip brushing mine as she walked by. I ignored the way my toes curled in my shoes and shot down to my car before she had even locked up.

* * *

Sara didn't talk during the car ride, only when I reminded her that I had no fucking clue where _anything _was in Montreal. She gave me monotone directions, and turned the radio up two notches.

She led me to a small coffee shop on the outskirts of town, slipping out of the car before I had even put in park. She sat at a table by the window with a wordless invitation for me to join. I followed and sat adjacent to her.

A waitress came by and she hastily ordered two coffees without even bothering to paint on a smile, even for decency's sake. It made me feel outrageously guilty, though I knew I shouldn't have been, and I let my hand dash out across the grab hers. She dropped my grasp almost immediately, and pushed her hair out of her face.

"Sara." I breathed her name like a secret; she turned to me like a stranger.

"Can we talk? Please?" My voice sounded desperate, even in my own ears, but I had no strength to change it.

"About what, Tegan?" Her voice came out slow and tired, and she spent the time fiddling with the salt shaker in some futile attempt to avoid my eye. I grabbed her hands again and tightened my grasp when she tried to weasel her way out of it.

"Let go, Tegan." I nearly flinched at the sound of tears brushing on the edges of her vocal chords, but I simply shook my head and twined my fingers with hers. She grimaced and shifted uncomfortably in her chair.

"Can we talk now-"

"If you want to talk, Tegan, then fucking talk."

I shook of the bitter aftertaste of her words and cleared my throat.

"It doesn't have to be big thing Sara." I found myself absently playing with her fingers, and that set her anxious and uncomfortable, crossing and uncrossing her legs beneath the table. I stopped immediately and instead let my fingers tear holes in my jeans. "We can just forget it, we don't have to think about it again-"

"I can't remember any of it." She sounded fragile, and managed to rip her hand from my grasp and let it sit cold in her lap. "I can't remember a damned thing."

I couldn't speak, so I let her thoughts run rampant for another five minutes before she was able to verbalize them.

"I thought you were Emy." Her words came out strangled and twisted, as if they sounded as harsh to her teeth as they did to my ears; I should have cried, I should have left, but instead I stayed like some silent statue and let her thrash around in her own mind.

The waitress finally brought the coffee, her smile almost faltering when she realized that they would lay untouched.

Sara was silent for longer than I expected. I merely watched her, watched flashes of pain and confusion flit across her face like a broken movie projector, with the reels spinning and spinning and screaming and _screaming_, but no one cared enough to stop them.

I should have whispered incoherent lullabies in her ear, I should have told her that it was okay.

I should have lied and told her I was fine, but I couldn't.

She bit down on her lip hard enough to draw blood and I watched with some kind of strange fascination as her nails dug into the side of the coffee table.

She looked up at me, eyes drawn in and bloodshot. "Can we go?" She whispered with a gaze so intense that it took me a few moments to find the words.

"We just got here."

"I know… I j-just…" She fumbled with her words again, and notion that she may start crying was motivation enough for me to wave down the waitress and pay for our neglected coffee. I grabbed Sara's hand and, this time, she didn't resist.

We walked along the sidewalk on some street I had never seen. It made me feel like a tourist, and I spent the majority of the silent walk adjusting my coat again and again, as if every passerby was scrutinizing me. Sara occasionally dipped her head into my arm, trying to subtly disguise her sniffling without realizing that I knew all of her tricks by heart.

I hated that she was crying – that she was _hurting_ – but my own pain was enough to strangle my concern until we lapsed into a rhythmic silence, matching the cadence of our feet on the pavement.

The road dead-ended in a parking lot. We sat down on the hood of a car, testing it twice to make sure the alarm didn't go off. She wouldn't let go of my hand now and continued to cry for several minutes before clearing her throat and straightening up.

Sara was obviously embarrassed; she had always hated crying in front of me. She hated showing any sort of weakness in front of _anyone_, but there was only so much strength that could sink into a skeleton of a 5'2" girl, still shaking against me.

"This isn't fair." Her words reverberated through the fabric of my jacket until I could feel their warmth on my skin.

"What isn't fair?" The amount of exhaustion in my voice made me sound like a stranger, a voice foreign to my ears.

"Everything. Life."

I smiled wryly. I wanted to tell her _life isn't fair_, or pull up some other cliché from the dirt and make myself sound confident and proud, like I knew something she didn't. But instead my infinite wisdom was dried up and I found myself tracing over her words in my head, over and over again, stuck on repeat.

"What do you want, Sara, honestly?" On paper, my words would have sounded harsh and expecting. But she knew me better and knew I was desperate for an answer, a _real _answer. Because I was at a loss. A complete loss.

She drew in her breath slowly, like she was testing the air, before mumbling through her teeth:

"I don't know, Tegan."

The way she said my name sounded so formal that I craved for her to pull me close and whisper _Teetee_ in my hair like she did when we were young, although now, I'm sure the act would have a different connotation. She was staring down at her feet and let them swing back and forth above the ground; she was still too short to touch the ground, although she had vehemently insisted months before that _a damned growth spurt is coming, it better be_.

"You love Emy."

She nodded without hesitation, and I hated the way my ribcage ached in response. I let the air turn stale before I finally let slip the question that had been lingering on my tongue for the last hour:

"Do you love me?"

I could hear her breath stall in her throat. She knew I was going to ask it, I _knew_ she knew. And I knew she wouldn't be able to answer it, at least not in the way I wanted her to.

Sara finally turned to me, lips parted slightly.

"Do you love _me_?" She retorted, the sunlight playing tricks with her eyes that made it hard to look away.

"I…." I took in a shaky breath and let her hand slip from mine. "I asked you first."

She stared at me for a moment longer before letting a grin play at her lips, darting down to grab my hand again.

"Real mature, Teetee."

Before I could control myself, I grabbed her face in my hands and kissed her, hard and slow. She trembled at the touch but let me press up against her all the same; she was warm and sweet and taste pure, not tainted and stained by alcohol like the night before. She couldn't suppress the tiniest of moans as my finger traced around her waistline, prying at the cotton edges of her t-shirt.

She was too entangled to notice her phone vibrating vehemently against her thigh, screaming out a name of a girl she longed to hear from; and yet I had turned her deaf, just for a moment – a moment long enough to let _Emy_ fade to missed call, only until Sara could hear again.


	7. Anyone's Ghost

**Look at me, I'm on a roll! Sorry this chapter is so short, but I have a lot in store for this story now so be patient. :) Thank you ALL for your fabulous reviews and feedback, they honestly make my day. Y'all rule.**

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Sara pulled away before I had a chance to memorize her taste.

It left me desperate and aching with desire, so much so that when she busied herself with readjusting her hoodie and hair, I could only focus on the tremble in my finger tips and the heat in my core. She cleared her throat and tucked her hair behind her ear; a nervous tick that she had never been able to fully cure.

I watched her out of the corner of my eye as she gently pushed away my hand, still unknowingly lingering on her shaking thigh. She coughed once, but it sounded like a whisper.

"You have my phone." She mumbled, pointing to the small cell phone that had wedged its way between me and the windshield of the stranger's car that we were still splayed upon.

"Sorry." I grumbled and made six flustered attempts at trying to fish out the damned thing. Sara rolled her eyes, hissing an annoyed breath through her teeth, and leaned over me to grab it herself. The close contact set my nerves on fire again. I slid out of my hoodie and let it slip onto the concrete, half-heartedly watching Sara as she fumbled with her phone.

"Fuck." She hissed under her breath, typing erratically on her phone. I tried to peer over her shoulder but she just glared and slid off of the car, jamming the phone to her ear. She walked to the far end of the parking lot so I could only see the deft movements of her lips, her hands twining in the front of her shirt, her anxious pacing through empty parking spaces.

I walked over to her once she hung up. Her breathing was heavier and her face flushed, and I wondered if she was calling someone or just downloading porn or something. I chuckled at my childish thoughts; she lifted her gaze to mine. I cleared my throat and faked a smile.

"Everything alright?"

"Fine." Her voice was hoarse and sharp and matched her quick movements as she brushed by me. Annoyed and surprised, I darted out to catch her wrist.

"Hey-"

"Get off." Her voice sounded oddly afraid and I watched her as she stopped in front of me and stared at the ground. She kicked idly at the pebbles that scattered the pavement, watching as they popped and pinged off of my own shoes.

"We should talk."

She finally met my gaze and the look in her eyes made me flinch; there was something starkly ferocious in her gaze, as if she had only a thread of sanity left, a thread that was inches from snapping. I unconsciously wormed my hand into my jeans pocket.

"You always say we need to _talk_, Tegan, that we have to fucking talk about all of our goddamn problems, like you're my fucking therapist or something." With each word, she took a step closer, stumbling towards me in some dangerous gait. I had never seen her so _raw_, with the confusion and anger bleeding through her eyes in hot salty tears, splashing on the concrete. Annoyed, she brushed the restless tears from her face with the back of her hand.

"Sara, calm down-"

"Don't you fucking tell me to calm down, Tegan!" Her voice cracked when she spat out my name, and this time it wasn't adorable or comical, instead it was terrifying and made my skin break out in a cold sweat. She stopped moving a foot from me and stood there in the flickering sunlight, staring through me.

"Did you ever stop to think about what we're _doing_?" The fragileness unknowingly crept back into her voice, and she cleared her throat to stop it. I took a step towards her; she took a step back. "You're my _sister_, Tegan, and we're sitting on top of fucking cars and making out like drunk teenagers. And…" She twisted her hair between her fingers and I could nearly feel the sob lingering against her teeth, clawing its way out of her throat. But she restrained it and choked it back down. I knew she was thinking of last night, replaying the splayed legs and hoarse moans in her head, again and again. She was too ashamed to say the words, despite the fact that she had said _fuck_ more times in the last sentence then she had in a year. She couldn't admit that she had fucked _me_, and it made me sick to think that I thought that maybe, _just maybe_, she didn't regret it.

But she did, and in the back of my mind, I knew I did too.

I didn't love Sara. Not that way, anyway. I couldn't love her that way, I just couldn't. I was in love with the feeling of love, in the concept of it. If she had told me she loved me I would have reciprocated, merely so I could feel loved again, only so I could hold her in my arms and kiss her slow and deep as if my very life depended on it. But I didn't love her. I wouldn't love her, I wouldn't let myself.

She had unconsciously moved closer to me and now was only a few inches from me. I had the urge to touch her sleeve, just brush against it, but I clenched my teeth and told my damn instincts to shut the fuck up. She glanced up at me, eyes glossy with stubborn tears that refused to fall.

"I'm fucking crazy, Tegan, I'm going crazy."

"You're not crazy-"

She pushed to her tiptoes and kissed me gently, pressing her sweet tongue against my bottom lip. My instinct was to curl my hand around her waist (_stop it, Tegan, stop it_), but she pulled away before I could.

"Fuck." She groaned, pulling at her hair so hard that I was surprised it didn't tear. She had finally started to cry and I craved to comfort her, to pull her close and tell her that we were dreaming and that tomorrow, the world would spin right again. That tomorrow, everything would be fine.

I took a step towards her; she took two steps back.

"Sara," My voice was hoarse and desperate. I could still taste her. "You're just confused. You don't know what you want."

"Stop, stop." She choked out, her words heavy with tears. It broke into my ribcage, tore holes in my heart like nicotine. "Please. Tegan, I can't… I can't do this. I'm going crazy. I can't do this."

She sputtered and drowned in her words until she was rendered completely incoherent, yelling out desperate screams into her sleeve like it was the only thing keeping her sane. It brought goosebumps rushing to the surface of my skin, to see her come undone like this; and yet I could do nothing but stand and watch like a stranger, tearing at the strings of my jacket.

The minutes passed by. My head spun, her screams turned hoarse until her voice faded away. Her breathing was heavy, eyes bloodshot, and her words we near silent when she mumbled:

"I have to go."

I nodded, once. I felt like a fool, I felt like I should say something, _anything_ to calm her down her bring the life back into her eyes. But instead I watched her walk away like a mute, as if I had lost my voice too.

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S:

I should have been able to find it easier. It was _our place_, she had told me over the years, but now that I was stuck in this disintegrating soul, putting one foot in front of the other was hard enough.

I stumbled through the doorway. Everything ached.

I wished I was home. I wished I was prettier. I wished I was sane. I wished I have never gone to that fucking New Year's party in the first place.

I shook clean my absent thoughts when I saw her, sitting alone at a table. We had always eaten at the same table, by the window, since she had always said: _they view never changes, so I never stop loving it_.

She looked the same. When she caught sight of me, she smiled the same, and, like always, my heart rate thundered. She gestured to the seat adjacent from her and I stumbled over, sitting awkwardly in front of her warm eyes.

I looked at her with bloodshot eyes; she looked at me with a gaze too inviting for the circumstances.

"I missed you." She whispered; her voice sounded the same.

I smiled, and took her hands went she stretched them across the table. She felt the same, and I couldn't hide the smile in my voice when I whispered:

"I missed you too, Emy."


	8. Tiny Vessels

**It was really hard for me to finish this chapter for some reason... so sorry for the wait. Let me just say now that I have nothing personal against Emy Storey...**

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I didn't know why I lazed around the parking lot even after Sara had left.

It had gone from sunny to overcast, and the change in weather had brought a steep drop in temperature; I found myself clutching my hoodie closer to me with each idle step around the parking lot.

I jumped through parking spaces.

I kicked the curb.

I ran my hands through my hair, replaying aimless conversations in my head as if I would suddenly have some kind of epiphany or realization and could piece back all the holes Sara and I had made. I cleared my throat as if someone was listening and grabbed my phone from my pocket.

I wanted desperately to call Sara, just to hear her voice, if anything, and my fingers hesitated over her name on my contacts list for at least a minute. My breath had unconsciously stalled under my ribcage, and when I let my phone drop back into my pocket, it broke free into the cold air.

I contemplated going to a bar and getting wasted out of my mind, but I figured I had already set a bad enough example for myself. I mean I _did_ fuck Sara completely sober, I couldn't imagine what I'd do drunk-

"Shut up, shut up." I grumbled to no one in particular and without another word I pulled my hood up again took off at a jog on the sidewalk. My body wasn't used to the pace and I had to slow to a walk in only a few moments, and the sudden failure of my body made me feel utterly weak, like the cold air had sucked the life from me.

I had been to Montreal a few times to visit Sara, but never really made sure to memorize the roads or directions in my head. I had always been like that – unintentionally oblivious with the sole contentment of watching the world go by. I cursed that habit now, mumbling under by breath as I tried to trace the streets back to the apartment in my head. I had begun to call it _the_ apartment instead of _Sara's_ apartment, which still seemed strange even though I had been living there for nearly six months. Since my apartment in Vancouver had flooded and now resembled a condemned, abandoned building, I had reluctantly moved in with Sara.

_I'll only be here a few weeks, I promise._ I had assured her before I stuffed my suitcase into a room that wasn't mine and slept in sheets that smelt of her skin and sweet perfume. Weeks turned to months of me rendered homeless in my sister's world, being forced to sell my apartment and meander absently through the paper looking for a place, any place, to live in Vancouver. I had drawn a quick red circle around an apartment that was manageable, a haphazard reminder that I had a life on the other side of the country, that I had friends, streets I knew the name of, familiar places.

But that was months ago, and I had become so accustomed to Sara's presence and our apartment (pardon me, _her_ apartment) that I could only shove the newspaper beneath my bed and pretend that it never existed. Sara would occasionally ask through a mouthful of cereal if I was going to _move the fuck out_, but I could tell by the mere timbre of her voice that she was reluctant to be alone again.

We both were.

So I stopped living out of my suitcase and pilled my clothes into dresser drawers that weren't mine.

* * *

It was dark by the time I had found my way to a familiar street. There was a hotel across the street, and it took me a moment to remember that Sara was still staying there. The thought made me sick, for I had regretted the decision the moment the words had slipped like honey from my lips.

_I got you a hotel room._

I flinched at the sound of my own voice in my head, reminding me of how robotic I sounded, and how fast her face had fallen.

_She's probably in her room now. I'll just go in and tell her to come home. _

I anxiously twisted a strand of my hair and stuck it behind my ear. I looked up to cross the street and stopped in my tracks, nearly slipping off the curb and onto the concrete.

Sara was standing in front of the hotel doors, leaning back against the hood of a car parked on the curb. Her hand was twisted in the front of a girl's shirt, talking with a weary smile on her face, one that I prayed to be fake and forced. I didn't want to even consider the possibility that her and Emy were back together. There was no way in hell that Emy was now kissing her neck, painting an open mouth gasp on Sara's lips, making my toes squirm angrily in my shoes. Sara hadn't spoken a word about Emy that wasn't coated with scorn and pain, hell, she hardly mentioned her name anymore. She would never kiss her full on the mouth, she would never smile when Emy squeezed her hand and took off at a jog down the street.

I realized that I was shaking now, in either anger or shock or manic depression, I couldn't tell. Sara was still standing against the car, smiling coyly as if Emy was still with her. I suddenly had the urge to run to the nearest bar and drink myself into the ground; the thought made my hands shake violently and I quickly pushed the thought from my mind.

Sara had left her lonely spot by the car and I took off at a run in the direction of the hotel. I caught a glimpse of her sliding into the elevator and the blinking _3_ above the closing door; I wanted patiently with tapping toes until the next ride came.

I caught her in the hall. She was fumbling for her keys with lazy hands, and it wouldn't have surprised me if she had left them on the street or in Emy's coat pocket or wherever the hell she was last. I crunched my teeth together at the bitterness in my voice; _stop acting like she's yours, she's not. _

"Hey, Sara-" Sara gave a yelp of surprise and dropped the key that she had finally wedged out from her purse pocket.

"Christ, Tegan, you fucking nearly gave me a heart attack." Her voice was softer than I expected, and it seemed as if our event in the parking lot had faded away. I would have prayed for that earlier in the day, but the thought of being replaced by Emy made me wish that my angry words were still squirming around in her head.

She leaned over to pick up her discarded keys and I tried to ignore the flash of her taunt stomach that the bend exposed.

"Are you okay?" She asked one she had straightened up, and a smile still played at her lips. Her thoughts were elsewhere. Her thoughts were still glued to Emily's full lips, pressed against her own.

"Come home. Please." My voice sounded more desperate than I thought possible; she noticed immediately. She shifted in her skin and cleared her throat, running her hand through her bangs that had grown too long for her liking, covering her eyes. I thought she looked good, but then again, she always did.

"Well I already made reservations for tonight-"

"It doesn't matter, we can cancel them." She was fishing for excuses and I was nearly begging. She stared at me for a moment too long before breaking into a small smile. She nodded and rushed into her room to grab her bags.

Sara led me back to the apartment with ease, and I made a mental note of which streets to take (_take a left, then a right, then another right… or was it a left?)_. She threw her bags on the floor within moments of entering and sprawled on the couch with a sigh. I couldn't help but smile as I shut the door behind her.

"I fucking hate hotels. I missed our apartment." She mumbled into the couch pillow and I chuckled.

"You were only gone for a day-" I froze. She said _our_ apartment. _Ours_ as in two people living together, making coffee in the morning, sharing a couch while watching TV. I mentally screamed at myself that I was being completely ridiculous, that suddenly anytime Sara to referred to us as an _us _was a line for me to be loved again.

_She doesn't want you. No one wants you._

She scoffed and pried the TV remote from the old couch pillows. "Whatever. It seemed longer."

I suddenly felt awkward and unwanted, standing in the foyer of _her_ apartment, and I sent a quick glance in her direction as I walked towards my room.

"I'm going to bed." I mumbled and she grunted in response. I didn't even bother to change out of my jeans and slid into the bed that had been left undone all day due to laziness. I suffocated my face unto the pillow, I tossed and turned, I kicked off the sheets until I found myself lying on my back staring absently at the ceiling. I allowed myself a wary glance at the alarm clock.

It was 8:03 PM.

I was still too awake to sleep, and yet far too exhausted to move.

So I rolled over in my skin and let the static from the television and the evening light flickering in through the window soothe me into a night of insomnia.


	9. Mouthful Of Diamonds

**I'm an awful updater so I'm sorrysorrysorry as usual. All of your reviews have been fabulous though, I honestly get a huge grin on my face every time I read them. Y'all are fantastic. Luckily, this chapter was very fun and easy to write, so hopefully this means I am getting over my writer's block finally! Enjoy, and reviews are always appreciated. :)**

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The guilt had started when I woke up with a mouthful of my cotton pillow, and the lights were still on and I craved a drink. I had been too tired to move from the couch, let alone change out of my jeans; I felt like one of those college kids who sits around and drinks stale coffee and reads all day, minus the raw intelligence and indie haircut. My hair had gotten far too long now, and tickled the nape of my neck with greasy fingertips.

I pressed myself up on my wrists and squinted at the clock for three minutes before realizing it was broken. I sighed and turned myself clockwise so that my shins were pressed against the coffee table; I rested my elbows on my thighs and my head in my hands. I stifled a yawn and fingered the beads of sweat on my neck, quietly spit from dreams full of either ecstasy or pain, I couldn't tell.

Tegan hadn't spoken to me in two days, for reasons she refused to reveal. I was left like the broken end of a telephone, yelling out every word in my vocabulary to get a response, but constantly receiving heavy silence. I was sick of trying so I lapsed into silence as well, and moved by her and throughout the apartment wordlessly.

We were like two ghosts haunting the same house, both desperate and craving, both refusing to disappear.

I pushed myself off the couch, leaving an imprint of my body in the fabric, and walked into the kitchen. The counters smelled of Lemon Pledge after I had scrubbed it for hours out of pure boredom; Tegan had walked by without a sound, only giving a twitch of a smirk at the sight of my raw fingertips. I grabbed the box of leftover Chinese food from the refrigerator and gnawed it lightly without really tasting it at all. My fingers wormed their way back up to my hair. I twisted it once.

And suddenly I was bee-lining straight for the kitchen drawer, I was fumbling around mindlessly, I was wrapping my fingers around forgotten scissors and leaning over the sink. I chopped at my hair haphazardly with the sole need to rid myself of it, letting it fall into the sink like dead skin. I chopped, I cut, I clipped, I grinned at the pieces as they twisted and fluttered to the bottom of the sink.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Tegan's voice sounded so alien after days of silence that I dropped the scissors into the sink and flinched openly. Her breath hitched in a smile and she walked over slowly, as if I was an animal perched to run. She grabbed the scissors from the sink, muttering something about the hair clogging up the drain. I stared as she twisted the scissors on her finger. She glanced up and smiled at the hack-job of my hair, gently running a finger along my crooked bangs. I nearly flinched again and the look came into her eyes: the look that seemed as if I had clicked off the light in them, the look that made my stomach turn. She dropped her hand back to her side. She grabbed a stool from the counter and motioned for me to sit in it. I obliged.

I sat with my back to her, tapping my foot against the stool leg in impatience. I shivered when her fingers brushed the back of my neck, and ground my teeth with the snap of the scissors even though I knew it was coming. She chuckled slightly. I heard another snap of the scissors.

"Calm down." Snap. Snip. "You did an awful job."

"I was in a hurry." Snip.

"Well next time, you should slow the fuck down. I'm saving your image here."

I smiled; we lapsed into a comfortable silence.

Snip. Snip. The soft pad of her finger smoothed over the top of my ear.

Snap. Click. Snip.

Snip. A hushed whisper, kept locked under her lips.

Click. A muffled, incoherent noise, her fingers sweeping over my cheek as she went.

I realized with every snap, with every click of metal in my hair, that Tegan was crying. I froze, not knowing what to say or do, only knowing that her hand was shaking as she cut and that shivers were trickling up my spine, setting my nerves on edge. My fingers clasped over my knee and squeezed it so tightly that I was sure that they were cutting straight through the bone.

Snap.

Her sniffles turned to sobs; I was frozen and could not move. My breath stalled. My heart lay dead in the bottom of my ribcage. Her fingers let the scissors slide onto the counter and she continued to cry and drown in her sorrow; I bit down on my lip so hard that I tasted blood on my teeth.

_Turn around, you dumb fuck. She's crying and it's your fault._

But her sorrow wormed its way back into her ribs and her crying slowed until it was only trickling through her lips, splashing on my skin. She cleared her throat, once.

"Here." Her voice was raw like sand paper as she handed me a mirror. I caught a glimpse of her in it, eyes all red rimmed and puffy, as if they were trying to escape her skull. I looked back to myself, looked at the sleep-deprived girl staring back at me with disgust.

_Look at you. Look what you did to her._

I couldn't look away. My hair looked perfect, and it made me want to cry.

_She knows you better than you know yourself. Look at you, you terrible fool._

"Do you like it?" Her voice verged on tears again and I swung around to give her the mirror. I nearly cringed at how broken she looked, and how she hastily wiped her smeared makeup on her shirt sleeve.

"It's perfect." I whispered, forging a smile that was too-practiced. It sat like old makeup on my lips.

She smiled slowly, sadly, and nodded once.

"It looks great, Sar." She mumbled, taking the handheld mirror and slipping it back into her pocket.

* * *

My mind ran rampant in the days that followed, and I found myself staring at the ceiling for hours with the mere goal of reviving Tegan and my relationship again. Our daily routines turned from silence to small talk, and even though it was barely anything, I still appreciated it. She was trying; it was progress.

I brought Emy home one night in a fit of alcohol-induced lust, and Tegan stood in her doorway and watched us kiss without a word. I felt filthy when she left. Tegan looked at me like I was dirt and didn't talk for the rest of the night.

One morning, Tegan was gone and her sheets were undone and shriveled on the floor. I let my mind wander and wondered what she did in her bed, what she thought about, if she thought about me. I bit my lip and closed her bedroom door.

I called her phone six times throughout the day and received only voicemail.

_Tegan, it's me. Call me back._

_ Teegs, it's Sara again. Look, it's almost 2 and I made lunch. Where are you?_

_ Seriously, Tegan?_

_ Fuck you. I'm trying here, and it's fucking midnight and I have no clue where you are. I don't give a shit if you're angry at me, Tegan, you can't keep me up all night worrying about you when you're probably off being a dumbass-_

_ Sorry. Come home, please._

I was face down in the couch cushions when the door squeaked open. It took me longer to wake up than normal, and I looked at her through a blurry haze as I pushed myself up to a sitting position.

"I slept with a girl tonight." Her voice was loud and she reeked of alcohol. Bourbon, I think.

"What?" I mumbled as I struggled to wipe the sleep from my eyes. The lights were still off and she felt around for a good ten minutes for flicking the wall switch on.

Her shirt was sliding off her shoulder and led me to catch a glimpse of a bite mark on her neck. It was red and blaring and I couldn't tear my gaze away.

"I slept with a girl tonight." She repeated in a slur and sauntered over to me. She sat on the table adjacent from me. I met her eyes and noticed that her right one was black and puffy; I flinched immediately.

"Tegan, what the fuck, did you get punched?" I was on my feet and my fingers were circling around the bruise tenderly. She shrugged once and pushed my hand away.

"Jordan was angry at me."

"Who the hell is Jordan?"

" The girl I slept with. She's my girlfriend."

I felt like I had slept for years. "You have a girl friend?" I hated how much disbelief and sadness came out in a simple sentence. "Since when?"

"A couple days, I guess-"

"Wait, she fucking did that to you?" Sleep had made everything hard to process. I couldn't feel a thing.

"What?"

"She punched you. That girl fucking hurt you, Tegan, don't act like it's nothing-"

"It _is_ nothing, I shouldn't have said what I said to her-"

"She shouldn't have punched you in the fucking face!" Before I knew it, I was yelling. Angry sweat pricked on the sides on my neck and slid until they pooled in my clavicle. "How can you say this so calmly when you're getting hurt over a girl who doesn't even care about you-"

"You're such a fucking _hypocrite_, Sara!" Tegan's voice was a snarl of pure anger and sent shivers all over my skin. She lunged forward and grabbed me by the wrist and pulled my sleeve all the way up to the elbow. I could hear her panting from her anger as her fingers danced over the scratches and slits that decorated my wrist. "You know Emy is going to cheat on you again. She doesn't love you, Sara, and _you're_ still hurting yourself."

The words cemented themselves in my head slowly. They ate away at my skull. She was right, I knew she was; Emy hadn't called me back in a week, claiming that she was too busy for me at the moment. She would always be too busy for me. But the feeling crept back again: it seemed that suddenly, everyone knew me but me.

"Fuck you, Tegan. You don't even know me." I snarled, and tried to wrench my wrist back. But instead, Tegan let me pull her with it and she kissed me brutally, punishing me with her lips, biting and nipping relentlessly. My head met the wall brutally and I groaned as her nails sunk into my hips, cutting into the skin, making my back arch and my breaths come out in little sputters like a dying engine. Her breath was so heavily laden with alcohol that her taste was enough to intoxicate me until I only caught glimpses of her teeth on my neck, the little noises she forced from my throat, her fingers hooking in my belt loops.

She pulled away abruptly, too abruptly, and I was left dizzy and panting. Her lips brushed my ear as she spoke: "I know you, Sara, and you know it."

She smiled with her gums and stumbled to her room, leaving me guilty and flustered against the wall.


End file.
